Chapter 11

Considering he had taken three sleeping pills, it was no surprise that Don slept through the night. Nor was it surprising that he awoke a little loopy. The only thing that surprised him was his absolute inability to make another trip to the hospital. Charlie had been right when he first came out of anesthesia – there were elephants hanging off trees in that room, and damned if Don knew how to ignore them – or how to face them, either.

He carefully made Charlie's bed, and padded into the bathroom. During his shower, he came up with a plan. He dressed in the clean set of clothing he always stored at the house, smelling coffee, and walked barefoot down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Alan was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, which he quickly put down when he heard Don enter. "Good morning, son!", he smiled. "You look better, Don. I thought we'd wait until about 10 to go in today, give Charlie a little more time to himself."

Don coughed into his sleeve. "I'm not sure I should go, Dad."

Alan frowned, concerned. "Are you ill?"

Don poured himself a cup of coffee and joined his father at the table. "It's nothing, Dad. I just feel like I might be getting a cold – kind of achy and stuffy. It could very well be that I just slept too long, and it will clear up, later. Ordinarily, I wouldn't mention it…but if it does turn out to be a cold, the last thing Charlie needs are my germs."

Alan contemplated his son. He looked bright-eyed and rested, to him – not sick at all, but he was right. They should err on the side of caution. "That's true," he conceded. He looked at the paper on the table in front of him and shoved it over to Don. "Headline says there's a suspect. I haven't taken the time to read or listen to any of the details, before now. Did you know ten people died in the explosion, and two more are critical?"

Don scanned the article and didn't see anything Megan hadn't already told him. He had checked his phone for missed calls earlier – he knew he could count on her to call right away whenever Davison was apprehended – but there was nothing. "Not really," he said, and pushed the paper away. "I saw a lot of body bags…I would have guessed more."

Alan sipped his coffee and didn't respond. After a few more minutes, he got up and began to scramble some eggs. Don got up and filled the four-slice toaster. Companionably, silently, as if they had been doing it for years – which, after all, they had – the two of them completed the intricate ballet that was breakfast in the Eppes household. After it had been prepared, and eaten, they loaded the dishwasher and carefully cleaned the kitchen.

Alan replaced the pepper in the cupboard over the stove and turned to lean on the counter. Don was back at the table, with another cup of coffee and the sports section – which was upside down. Ever since Charlie was born, a little over 30 years ago, and there were two of them, Alan had hated this part. Choosing one over the other. Balancing. "Donnie, you'll call me if you start to feel worse and need something. Call Charlie's room." Alan considered. "No, wait. If I'm not there, in the cafeteria or something, he wouldn't be able to reach the telephone and it might frustrate or frighten him. Call the nurse's station on that floor, all right?"

Don offered him a wan smile. "I'm sure it's nothing, Dad. I actually feel better already, but…"

"Of course," Alan agreed. "Better safe than sorry."

Don stopped pretending to read the paper. "I should probably go home."

Alan looked at his watch. "You know you can stay here forever, but if you need a ride, I'll be leaving for the hospital soon. I just want to run out and feed the koi, first. If they haven't eaten each other, by now."

Don let a chuckle escape him, watched his father depart out the kitchen door and decided to go upstairs and get his clothes from yesterday. He grabbed a grocery sack to put them in. Up in his old room, stuffing them in the plastic bag, he thought about the Ambien. Charlie would never remember whether or not he had any in the house. If he ever needed more, he'd just get a new refill. Don hurried to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle, shoved it in the bag and closed the mirrored cabinet door. As it shut, he caught a glimpse of himself, and began to tremble, slightly. He stared at himself as if at a stranger.

It was not yet 9 a.m., and he had effectively abandoned his only sibling, lied repeatedly to his father, and stolen prescription medication.

This was not him.

Worse, this was not who he wanted to be.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he jerked his cell phone off his belt and flipped it open. He hit a speed dial number and negotiated an automated voice system until he heard someone unmistakably live. "This is Agent Eppes," he said, tremulously. He cleared his throat. "I need an appointment with one of the Bureau's psychiatry staff. Today."

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After he had dropped a quiet Don off at his apartment, Alan alternated between resentful and concerned the rest of the way to the hospital. With Don essentially suspended, he certainly didn't expect that he would have to face Charlie and all his issues alone. He might be older and wiser than his son, but he didn't have any experience to draw on in this situation; he was as much in the dark as Donnie.

On the other hand (God, how he hated that phrase, now), the boy could be telling the truth. Charlie absolutely could not develop any secondary medical issue right now, and if Don was harboring germs, he had to keep them to himself. If that were true, his eldest must feel worse than ever, knowing he couldn't be with Charlie, and periodically, Alan's heart ached for Don. And Charlie. Himself, as well. Hell, throw in Larry. Alan just had a heartache, no two ways about it.

Alan found a parking space somewhere near Oregon and took a shuttle up to the hospital's main entrance. He received the second unwelcome surprise of the day when an elevator disgorged him directly in front of the nurse's station on Charlie's floor, and he saw the crestfallen faces of Megan, Colby and David, who were waiting for a ride down. Alan hurried out of the lift. "What is it? Did something happen?"

The trio formed a circle around him. "Charlie doesn't want any visitors," Colby informed him in a dejected voice. "They won't let us in."

Alan looked at them. "Well, that's ridiculous. I'll talk to him. Can you wait a few minutes?"

A nurse behind the counter – the same one who had attended Charlie yesterday – interrupted. "I'm sorry, Mr. Eppes. Charlie was very clear. No visitors."

Alan stared at her stonily. "You don't mean me. I'm his father."

The woman smiled at him sadly. "He's of legal age, Mr. Eppes. He can make that request. We have to honor it."

Megan touched his arm. "Alan, I'm so sorry. I'm sure he'll change his mind."

The nurse jumped in, again. "That's a very good possibility. If you'd like to wait out here for a while, I'll tell him you're here. I'll keep telling him all day, if I have to."

Stunned, Alan rubbed a hand over his forehead, and that was his third surprise of the morning.

His baby did not want to see him.